


Dreams of This

by DayenuRose



Series: Romy Week 2020 [2]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Married Couple, Rogue/Remy week 2020, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22564336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DayenuRose/pseuds/DayenuRose
Summary: Coming home late from a mission, Remy indulges in one of his favorite pastimes--spending time with his wife.Part of Rogue/Remy Week 2020Day 3 - Domesticity
Relationships: Remy LeBeau/Rogue
Series: Romy Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622878
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50





	Dreams of This

Remy noiselessly slipped off his boots, holding in the grunt of pain precipitated by the simple motions. Weariness tugged at every muscle and his joints ached with the memory of old wounds. Despite Hank’s insistence that he stay the night in the infirmary for observation, Remy had turned down the suggestion. While sore and generally achy, the injuries weren’t _that_ bad and he wasn’t about to spend another night separated from his heart. Hank didn’t need to know that he had ridden his motorcycle home from the Mansion instead of hailing a cab. After all, Remy had made the trip safe and sound and the good doctor had enough to worry about without Remy’s recklessness adding to his troubles. 

Closing his eyes, Remy allowed his feet to guide him through the house and to the room he shared with his wife. They’d been married for years, and somehow that novelty hadn’t worn off. Rogue, _his wife_. He loved calling her his wife just as much as he loved it when she call him her husband. 

Wraith-like he slipped into their room with only the click of the door marking his entry. Rogue stirred in bed, turning to watch as he changed from his uniform to pajamas. Her appreciative gaze lingered, hungrily devouring the sight of him as he made as much of a production as possible of the task. He grinned salaciously, hoping to distract her from the fact he was moving more slowly and stiffly than usual. It didn’t work. Though she didn’t say anything, he felt the intensity of her concern as she took in his bandage wrapped torso. 

Remy slipped into bed beside her and arranged the covers over both of them before snuggling up to his wife. With her back pressed against him, he wrapped an arm around her and held her tight against his chest. Even through two sets of pajamas he could feel her chill mingling with his warmth. He pressed a kiss against the protective layer of her hair. 

“Mon coeur.” He breathed in her sweet scent—honey and magnolias. It warmed him with memories of southern sunshine, summer evenings and home. Basking in the rightness of the moment, Remy relaxed, almost forgetting the aches and pains that plagued his body. Languidly, he followed the curve of her hips before resting his splayed fingers against the gentle swell of her stomach. Humming happily, Rogue tucked her hands protectively inside the sleeve of her long-sleeved shirt and traced the back of his hands. 

“Welcome home, sugah,” she whispered drowsily. She turned in his arms so she faced him, automatically scootching down so her head rested against his pajama clad shoulder. 

“Were you expecting me?” He tugged the hem of her shirt, covering the sliver of skin that her movements had revealed. 

“Ah was hopin’.” Her covered hands scrambled along the hard planes of his chest and stomach, careful to avoid the wide swath of bandages. Through his shirt, she traced the knots and valleys of scar tissue that marked his skin. Even though she couldn’t see them, her fingers unerringly found the remnants of old wounds by touch and memory. “Ya said you’d try to make it home tonight.”

“Mmhmm, and I made it.” With a groan, he shifted enough to reach behind him for the pair of gloves he kept on the nightstand. Rogue was doing better at controlling her powers, but she still needed to stay in control at all times in order to accomplish that task. Of course, it was easier said than done. Uncontrolled or unrestrained emotions—fear, excitement, pleasure, grief—tended to set her powers off. 

There was also a certain conscious element to her control. When she slept, she couldn’t guarantee control over her powers. Some nights, nothing happened and they whiled away the nighttime hours peaceably in each other’s arms. But all too frequent nightmares tended to cause waves of unrestrained absorption. At other times, there wasn’t anything obvious about what triggered her powers and it took nothing more than a simple bare skin caress to begin the absorption. 

Most of the time Remy slept lightly enough that he tended to wake if she started to accidentally drain his powers. Most of the time, the sudden influx of his psyche in her thoughts was enough to snap Rogue back to herself. But, it was’t a scenario which either of them wished to tempt or repeat. They knew what to expect if it happened, but that didn’t mean they wished to experience it again. All it would take was one night where they both relaxed their guards or neglected to take the proper precautions. One night where nightmares confuddled both their sleep. One night when they didn’t wake up in time. The last thing he wanted was to be unconscious in the infirmary while she was left to deal with all his mental garbage alone. If anything were to happen, he wanted to be with her. Hence the pajamas and gloves, even in bed. 

“How are you feelin’ chère?” He ran a finger lightly along her spine. 

Shivering at his touch, Rogue pressed closer. She clutched at his shirt, the fabric bunching in her hands and revealing a strip of skin along his lower back to the cool night air. In the darkness, he could just make out the way she gnawed on her lower lip as she considered her answer. 

“Ah’m feelin’ okay right now, but Ah’m pretty tired...might fall asleep at any moment,” she admitted around a yawn. He interpreted that as she had control over her powers for now, but it might slip once she fell asleep. 

“Dat’s fine, mon coeur.” He slipped on the gloves and adjusted his position again, this time to take the pressure off his injuries. Now he laid on his back with Rogue’s head resting over his heart. Idly he massaged Rogue’s scalp. Working his way down her neck to her upper back, he kneaded the tension from her muscles. Her breathing evened out to a slow, steady pace.

Remy did his best not to stiffen as Rogue’s roving hand found the bandages wrapped across his ribs. A sharp hiss escaped from between his teeth when her light caresses moved from the edges of the bandages and probed across the expanse of covered wounds. He had checked the bandages before coming to bed. At that time, there’d been no seepage from the patchwork of injuries mottled across his torso and he hadn’t moved enough to cause the wounds to reopen. Still, his body ached and the pain killers he’d taken before leaving the Mansion weren’t as effective at dulling the pain as they had been even a few years ago. 

“Sorry, swamp rat.” She withdrew her hand from the bandages and rested it along his collar bone. “What happened?” 

“De fight got rough and I got knocked around a bit. But, don’ worry, mon coeur, I’ll be right as rain soon enough.” He shrugged, the movement caused her head to bounce against his shoulder. “Nothin’ more than some abrasions and bruisin’.” 

Though Rogue accepted his explanation, she didn’t let the matter drop. “How deep, Cajun?”

It didn’t even occur to him to try lying to her anymore or hiding the truth. She’d find out one way or another. Besides, he’d long since discovered that sharing things with his wife not only cut down on the fights, it made the burdens lighter. 

“Dey’re pretty deep,” he admitted in a slow drawl. “Beast is a bit worried ‘bout de bruisin’, but I’ve had worse. As for de abrasions, it ain’t pretty sight to behold. We’re gonna need to keep an eye on dem to make sure dey don’ get infected. Most o’ de scrapes are too big to make stitches effective. De good doctor said I ought to lay low over de next few days while they heal. On de other hand, my ribs are fine—no breaks or contusions dis time around. As I said, it’ll just take some time.” 

To her credit, Rogue did’t fret or fuss in the over protective mother hen impression she used to enact every time he as so much stubbed his toe or returned a few minutes late. 

“You okay with me...?” She pushed herself up on one elbow, ready to readjust her position at his say so. 

Remy reached for her and brushed wayward locks of white hair back behind her ear. “Stay, chère. My shoulder don’ hurt much and I love holdin’ you close.” 

“Ah like that too.” 

Rogue pressed a kiss to his forehead. Her hair tumbled over her shoulder and tickled his skin. With a half exasperated huff, she wound her hair out of the way before settling back into her place at his side. Their breathing soon feel in sync. A contented sigh escaped from Remy as he held his wife close. Despite injury and exhaustion he was a happy man. His fingers toyed with the ends of her wild, unruly curls. He couldn’t think of a better way to spend his convalescence. If he could get away with it, he might baby his injuries a bit longer than strictly necessary simply to prolong the time he got to spend with his wife. He had a feeling Rogue wouldn’t protest. If fact, she’d probably even help convince the others. Despite the lancing spikes of pain and the constant all over ache, Remy couldn’t help but grin at the possibilities that such a scenario offered. 

Rogue’s fingers brushed the sharp prickles of stubble that followed along the sharp lines of his jaw. “Whatchya grinnin’ about, swamp rat?” 

“You.” 

“What about me?” A mischievous light danced in her half closed eyes. 

“Oh, you know. You an’ me, together forever kind o’ t’ings. I used t’ dream o’ this,” he confessed in a drowsy murmur. “Of havin’ you in my bed.” 

“Ah’m sure ya did. Had a few of those dreams myself.” Rogue canted her hips towards him in an unspoken acknowledgement that though she was exhausted, she was willing if he was.

“Non, not like dat. Maybe in de morning.” He shook his head and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “‘Sides ‘m comfortable jus’ like dis.” 

His response was enough to knock away the edge of sleep from her. She squinted up at him in the darkness, as though trying to read his face to see if he was being serious. “Really swamp rat? Come on, Ah _know_ ya.”

“Relax, mon coeur. Can’ deny I dreamed o’ makin’ love to you, but dat ain’ what I was referring to a moment ago.” He ran a thumb across her lips. Then, catching her chin between his fingers, he lifted her face as he turned his head towards her. Eager for what she knew was coming, her lips parted and she bridged the remaining distance so he wouldn’t need to move anymore than necessary. He kissed her, nipping at her lips and tasting her sweetness. The tug of her mutant powers pulled at the edge of his consciousness. He called forth the memories of his recent contentment and offered them to her before she broke contact. 

“Mmm,” she sighed happily as the kiss ended. “You were sayin’?”

“Right.” It took a moment to refocus his thoughts. “As much as I wanted to make love to you, those weren’t my only fantasies. I also dreamed about snuggling up beside you in bed at the end of a long day. Holding you in my arms as we slept. Savoring these sweet contented moments right before sleep when everything is right in the world.” As he spoke, the low, rich thrum in his voice had a soporific effect on his wife.

Rogue relaxed as she used his bony shoulder for a pillow. He smiled and closed his eyes. His restless hands continued to gently roam his wife’s body. 

“Ah had dreams like that too...” Rogue mumbled sleepily around a yawn. “Thought Ah was the only one...ya know...’cause Ah couldn’ touch...”

“Non, you’re not alone in dat. Dere are hundreds—millions—of ways to show you how much I love you and we’ve only jus’ scratched de surface. I promise you, I will lavish you wit’ dem all. But dese moments are special. Priceless. Dey are a balm to de soul. And dey can’t be replicated wit’ anyone else. It’s love an’ trust an’...” He fell silent, lost in his own thoughts. 

How could he find the words to express how simply being in her presence made him feel? These moments of contentment were no less precious though they were growing more frequent. They shone through the darkness like a steady beam of light, drawing him to the safe harbor of their home. This was love and hope and family. She offered him belonging like he had never belonged before.

“Ah know.” Rogue tucked her hand over his heart. The thrum of his heartbeat echoed hers. And he knew she understood without the need for further words or explanations. This was their life, their love, their choice. The road was not easy, but it was worth the struggle. They were better together and nothing in the world could persuade him otherwise. 

“Good night, mon amour,” he whispered as sleep lapped at the shores of his consciousness. “Sweet dreams.”


End file.
